


Hot Potato

by batzulger



Series: The Military Option [4]
Category: Bourne (Movies), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Hanna (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Military, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batzulger/pseuds/batzulger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courier duty is just another job for the Diplomatic Security Service...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Potato

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters are property of their creators and holders of their copyright.

**Duty Calls**

I like my apartment in Georgetown. The neighborhood's nice and the shopping opportunities are plentiful. The only real problem I have with it is that parking can be a nightmare. I usually leave my car in the lot and jog to work anyway so even that didn't annoy me too much.  
  
What was annoying me was that I was stuck on translation detail again. This time doodles on napkins from an OPEC meeting. So far I'd found six phone numbers, the comment 'Chavez is a horse's ass' (underlined twice!), a hummus recipe (which made me hungry), directions to a strip club (in Prague I think), and a cute little squiggle picture of a camel. Not a productive day even by my considerably low standards. Then my phone rang.  
  
"Summers."  
  
"Agent Summers, please report to the tasking office ASAP."  
  
My eyebrows raised and I pulled open my desk drawer to grab my cell, "On my way."  
  
Imagine Tasking as the duty sergeant at a police station. They're responsible for making sure missions have agents that are qualified to do the job. I was at the office in five minutes.  
  
"Agent Summers reporting."  
  
The receptionist looked up and stared at me, "You're a qualified field agent?"  
  
I stared back and let a little slayer leak through. She looked away and quickly dialed an extension, "She's here." Looking back at me but not meeting my eyes she pointed down the hall, "Room 1162."  
  
I nodded and walked down to the designated room. The door was ajar so I walked in closing it behind me. Inside was a typical briefing room. Conference table, chairs, whiteboard, and a bureaucrat in a Men's Wearhouse suit.  
  
"Agent, sit."  
  
I sat.  
  
"Have you done courier duty before?"  
  
"As part of an escort team."  
  
"Yes, well this time you'll be solo. You fly to London tonight and pick up the package and a sat-phone. Tomorrow morning you board a train to Istanbul. You'll be met at the station there to hand over the package and the phone. Simple enough."  
  
The exaggerated casualness of the way he talked was starting to make me nervous. Something wasn't right here and I was having that baity feeling.  


**To Paris**

The flight to Heathrow was fine. In fact coach class is one of the few places being altitudily challenged ever is worth it. And it never gets old arriving in Tweed Central. To quote the fine British type scholar Edward Izzard, Europe is where the history is made.  
  
I picked up my bag at the baggage conveyor and with the wave of a diplomatic passport, cleared customs in record time. I was authorized carry of my duty pistol of course, but I really didn't want to see the reactions to my throwing knives, stakes, and of course the Ithaca WitPro shotgun in my carry-on bag. I still fully intend to be a slayer that dies of old age, and being properly equipped is always a good way to lead off a mission.  
  
I made my way across the terminal to the signs marked "Ground Transport". I kept my eyes open looking for someone who might be more than normally interested in a short blonde American who coincidentally worked for the State Department. I didn't spot anybody right off the bat, but my 'something's just not good' detector was operating at a low-level buzz.  
  
I made it to the taxi stand and was greeted as an old friend by some woman I'd never met before. She had the right passwords so we got into a cab and headed down into London so I could catch a train.   
  
I got out of the cab with my suitcase, my carryon, and a shopping bag that held a nicely gift wrapped package, a sat-phone, and my train tickets through to Istanbul. I made it down to my train car in plenty of time and used the free moments to check out if any hotties or potential ne'er do well's were checking me out.  
  
Unfortunately and fortunately the answer to both was a resounding no, so I sat in my Business Class seat in the comfy Eurostar, put in my earbuds and waited for the train to leave the station. Five minutes later a cute dark haired guy sat down in the seat next to me, smiled briefly, then buried his nose in a newspaper. I sighed, love or even flirtyness and Buffy were never meant to be together I guess.  
  
The train departed just a few minutes later and we were off. The satphone was in my carry-on, the package, in all its gift-wrappy glory, was cunningly concealed in the shopping bag between my feet. It didn't weigh more than a few pounds and was solid with no shifty or slidey bits. I had gotten a window seat so nobody could just do a runby and pickup. I was traveling under a civilian passport for this part of the trip and my weapons were close at hand.   
  
Still, my instructors had always drilled into me, the most dangerous parts of an op are the beginning and the ending. So I stayed on my guard while looking as relaxed as possible. The trip through England was pretty boring until we got to the coast. Then you could see the big horse carved into the hillside just before the train dove underground and under the English Channel.

  
The train trip, according to the oh so helpful guidebook, under the channel would only take about half an hour. In my experience an apocalypse can be started in fifteen minutes or less, so I kept my guard up while still trying to look relaxed. By this time, my seat mate had finished his paper and was making notes in some kind of squiggle on a legal pad. Switching off with occasionally gnawing on the pen cap while staring at the ceiling in thought.  
  
I figured chatting would make me look more touristy so I turned to face him and smiled, "Hi I'm Buffy!"  
  
He actually recoiled in shock. Usually I only have that effect on demons I'm about to slay.  
  
"Uh huh what? Oh! I'm David. You're an American?"  
  
"California born and bred. You don't sound Tweedy or Frenchy or Germanish. You're an American too?"  
  
"Yes. I'm from Missouri. Not as exotic as California I'm sure."  
  
"I'm sorry I startled you, but I figured since we're going to be seatmates all the way to Paris at least, I should say hi."  
  
"That's okay. I get too wrapped up in my work sometimes. My old boss used to give me hell about it."  
  
"What do you do?"  
  
"I'm a financial security consultant. I help banks find new ways to hang on to their money."  
  
"Banks need  _more_  ways to get money? Really?"  
  
"Hey! They think so and they pay me to find them. So what do you do?"  
  
"Oh, I'm a personal shopper in LA. One of my clients was so super happy about the work I did, she gave me a trip across Europe by train. I've never been here you see. Do you still live in the States?"  
  
"I live in hotels mainly. All over the place."  
  
"That is so sad," he nodded in agreement and went back to his squiggles. We had exited the tunnel by this time and were on our way to Paris. I glanced over at David and noticed a strange yet familiar tiny drop on his jacket cuff.   
  
It was dried blood. That was something I would know anywhere.

**Party Crashers**

I didn't see any fresh cuts or bandages on his hands or face, but he still could've have had a nosebleed or something. It probably didn't mean anything anyway. Anyway, by the time we were entering the Paris trainyards, I had mostly put it out of my mind.  
  
This train continued on to Switzerland so I stayed onboard and became slightly more wary when David didn't show any sign of getting off either.  
  
"To Zurich?" I asked.  
  
""Hmm? Yes. I have business with a couple of banks there. You?"  
  
"Yuppers! Touristy time in the land of Ricola and alp horns," I tried to sound as perky as humanly possible. My careful ploy was wasted though as six guys in black combat gear crashed through the windows on both sides of our train car.

  
My spidey-sense hadn't given a peep so they had to be humans, but I had no illusions about who or what they were looking for.  
  
"David get down and cover your eyes and ears!" I guessed the first move in the playbook would be a flashbang, followed by gas, followed by the shooty part. I was right.  
  
The stun grenades blast caused my extra-slayery sense of hearing to ring, but knowing it was coming and covering my eyes kept away the worst of the effects. The tear gas grenade felt a lot like I was back in basic training so I took a deep breath, held it and came out swinging.   
  
I wanted to make sure I took at least one alive for questioning, so the closest one got an uppercut from a remarkably ticked off slayer. His feet did leave the floor, but I pulled it enough so that I didn't A)Break his neck; and B) Bounce his head off the ceiling. He was only human after all.  
  
The gunfire started about that point so I dive-rolled into the legs of the only other shooter standing in the aisle. I heard a nasty crack as he fell over and hey magico, now I had an MP5 and a pro mask. I lunged between a pair of seats as one of his buddies tried walking some fire in on me. I pulled on and cleared the mask, then checked the magazine in my shiny borrowed submachinegun before peeking out from behind my improvised barricade.  
  
It looked like David had 'borrowed' a mask from one of the other goons, and was proceeding to take another apart with what seemed to be Krav Maga. He was very fast and very good. Not slayer level on the speed of course, but if I was a normal human, he would have taken me down stupidly quick.  
  
So that was four down as David's target bounced off the floor a few times without twitching. David scooped up his ex-dance partner's weapon and cleared and checked it before diving for cover as the remaining two goons opened up.  
  
The other passengers were mainly screaming, crying, and vomiting at this point and I could feel the train starting to slow and bump as it came through the switchpoints. I pulled my head back so it wouldn't get shot off before crouching then leaping over the seat-back towards the closest shooter.  
  
There were far too many bullets flying around for travel safety so I had pulled one of my knives and, while I was in mid-flight, threw it at the further goon; catching him in the back of the head right before I crashed into my primary target. Primary target was easily taken out by a quick twist to his head and the shooting stopped.

  
The gas was still filling the train car, even with its busted windows, making it pretty hard to see. At least my hearing was coming back.  
  
"How many of those stupid CS canisters did they use?!? All of the ones in freaking Europe???" my voice was muffled because of the mask, but I made sure my lack of happyness was very clear. Then common sense took over and I swung the MP5 to cover David...who of course was doing the same to me.  
  
"Financial security huh?"  
  
"Tourist?"  
  
"Well yeah...angry American tourist. Any casualties in the civvies on your side?"  
  
"Yes, three down. One permanent," he lowered his weapon as he spoke, so I did the same.  
  
"Four over here, none permanent. We'd better get out of here, their command will realize the op failed any second now and I don't want to see what they have planned for an encore."  
  
He nodded and move back to our seats where he scooped up a back pack. I grabbed the package and stuffed it and the MP5 into my shoulder bag. Then the pair of us headed to the next car, David pulling the emergency brake just before we entered.  


**Gay Paree**

I had turned back a sec to grab the goon I had only concussed before making my exit after David. Even over the screaming brakes I could hear the telltale thump thump of incoming helicopters.  
  
"Reinforcements incoming! Sounds like a pair of slicks!"  
  
David turned at my yell and looked out the window, "Pave Hawks...Are you CIA?"  
  
"Oh no, is it the blonde hair? I'm DSS."  
  
"State Department? This doesn't make any sense. We'd better get clear before we can talk."  
  
I nodded in agreement and kicked the locked train car door out of its frame, "So let's make with the getting clear."

  
My pants suit was all dirty from the jump, tuck, and roll from a slowing, yet still actually moving, train. And it looked like I had cracked a nail. Vengeance would be mine. We had run like hell from the trainyards and disappeared into Paris's huge storm sewer system. Not the way I wanted to visit the City of Lights I can assure you. The goon was finally starting to come round and David and I emptied his pockets before tying him up with his own tuffcuffs.  
  
"A couple of gas grenades, another flashbang, 5000 Francs, 6 magazines for an MP5, Beretta 92 with suppressor, four mags for the Beretta, Emerson folder," I pocketed that, " No ID or identifying items." I finished the inventory.  
  
"Pave Hawks mean USA no matter how sterile his gear is. The big question is who are they after? You, me, or someone else in that car?"  
  
"Would they use that kind of firepower for you? Because I'm still pretty much a junior agent. No way would I deserve that much force coming after me."  
  
"Do  _they_  know what you can do Agent...?"  
  
"Summers. Buffy Summers. No, the people that do know are really not the kind to talk about it in public or private. And if  _they_  did know,  _they_  would've sent a lot more than six guys on the initial strike...a whole lot more."  
  
He looked at me sideways trying to guess if I was serious or not. Then he shook his head slightly, "Well six troops is what I would expect to come after me. So what are you with that speed and strength? Part of a follow on project from Treadstone?"  
  
"Tread-a-whatzit? Nope I'm just a Californian ex-soldier, current State Department agent, and one of two girls in all the world...And you, Mister David No-Last-Name? You had some amazingly sweet moves in that beat-down."  
  
"David Webb. I'm..I was CIA. Now I'm just a private citizen."  
  
"Did the Company let you walk away, fire you, or did you take the independent retirement option?"  
  
He gave me a sharp look then sighed, "The last. We had a difference of opinion on my retirement..."  
  
"You saw yourself alive, they saw you dead?"  
  
"Something like that, but the people involved at the Company, were informed that I could walk away clean. They kept my word, so I kept mine."  
  
"In other words you refrained from either releasing information or killing them?"  
  
"You sound way too jaded to be a junior agent."  
  
"I've had some interesting instructors. Oh look, our new friend is coming around."  
  
The goon was shaking his head slowly. David stepped in front of him.  
  
"Langley, Meade, Crystal City?"  
  
The goon snorted, "You are so off base...Who the hell are you anyway?"  
  
David glanced over at me, "Sounds like they were your friends after all."

**Retreat Gracefully**

"Langley is CIA, Meade is NSA, and Crystal City?"  
  
"Crystal City stop on the DC Metro is the Pentagon."  
  
"Sorry, I had a blonde moment," I looked over at the goon. "I  _was_  the target, huh? What was the Op Order?"  
  
He sat there silent.  
  
"Okay, we'll just leave you here for the rats and roaches then. We're so far from the tracks now your buddies won't find you for a long time...and we're deep enough that locater transponders will be of the suckage."  
  
He still sat there, but I could smell the first waves of fear coming off him.  
  
"I mean dying alone and forgotten in the Paris sewers would really just blow wouldn't it? Tell you what, you talk and we'll just let you loose. We can't take you with us and if you've read my dossier you have a pretty good idea what my psych profile is like...and that I am a decorated for valor combat vet," David stiffened slightly at hearing that.  
  
"Okay, I'll talk if you cut me loose."  
  
"Not a problem," I bent over and broke the tuff cuffs apart, "Now talk!"  
  
"We're ISA. Apparently you're a Statey that's gone traitor with some classified weapons research. Our job was to recover it and you. Simple smash and grab. That's all it was supposed to be."  
  
"ISA?" David looked puzzled, "What the hell is the Intelligence Support Activity Direct Action Team doing on this op? Why not FBI or CIA? Or even DSS? That's her home agency."  
  
"Diplomatic Security? That's not what the dossier said. Just that she was a Technology Transfer Specialist."  
  
I pulled my badge case and showed it to him.  
  
"Oh fuck...That could be a fake right?"  
  
"Oh it's not," I cracked my knuckles, "Now who was the suit that sent you on this European vacation."  
  
"Some lady from the National Security Council named Walsh."

  
David and I were making tracks down the sewers leaving the goon behind. David seemed to know where he was heading so I followed trying to stay relatively clean.  
  
"You know the name Walsh I take it?"  
  
"Oh yeah. She's DARPA in the stupidly high security section. Mucho emphasis on the stupid in stupidly. She's a research type that likes doing unauthorized field testing. Last time I saw her, she was using US citizens as stalking goats for a very un-nice bioweapony creature. By the way, where the heck are we going?"  
  
"I was stationed in Paris, so we're heading for an old safehouse of mine. Should still be clean," he stopped jogging and turned to face me, "I have a lot of questions you know."  
  
"Uh, I kinda guessed that part..."  
  
"Most can wait till we get to the safehouse, but first we have to make sure you weren't tagged with a locator."  
  
I nodded and pulled out my cell, the satphone, and the package. "All the rest of my stuff is personal purchase, even my duty weapon."  
  
"Ever let a unit armorer work on it?" I nodded, "Give it here then, also your wristwatch and your shoes."  
  
"Ewww, barefoot in a sewer...again."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"I had a rough childhood," I slipped him my stuff and of course my boots were bugged as were both phones and as for the package..."  
  
"He was sweeping an EM detector over it that he had pulled from his pack. The little red light glowed and he checked a few readouts. "It's radiating but not on any standard bands. If it wasn't so radio dead in here I never would have picked it up from background noise."  
  
"Let me unwrap it, I signed for it anyway." He passed the package over and I slowly peeled the paper off to find a small cardboard box sealed with wire wraps and lead seals. Breaking the seal I pulled it open to find a plastic case with the phrase  _TS-Brutality_  stamped on the top.  
  
"Top Secret codeword Brutality. Have you ever heard of that before."  
  
"That's a big nope. Wait a sec, if it has the codeword printed on it, that means it must have been smuggled out of wherever it came from. Aren't you supposed to redact that when it leaves secure storage?"  
  
"Oh yes, we are now officially committing treason," he took his detector and ran it over the plastic,"Signal's coming from inside."  
  
"Oookay," I broke the seal holding it shut with my thumb, and carefully pulled the lid off. Inside were a small rack of vials and a miniature hard drive. When I saw the vials, I snapped the lid shut fast and held my breath.  
  
"I don't think it's a bioweapon, Buffy. No trefoil circles. Even codeword stuff has to have those markings on the outside. Here..." He reached for it and I let him take it from me. He opened it and carefully checked out the interior before pulling out a small device in the padding attached to some fine wires, "Transmitter is disabled," he dropped it into the sewer water and shut the box before handing it back to me, "Let's go."  


**6\. What now?**

After a small eternity of me squishing through the Paris sewers in my nylons we finally got to an exit. After climbing a rickety ladder and pushing through a trapdoor that looked like it was probably ancient when Napoleon was the big fromage around here, I looked around and saw a small cluttered basement.  
  
"Homey. Needs some more light though. I suggest Ikea."  
  
David hrumphed but still grinned a little at my babble, "This way." He headed over to a small door which led to a narrow flight of stairs up.  
  
At the top of the stairs a panel slid aside leading into the back of a dusty closet and beyond that was a tiny apartment.  
  
"It isn't glamorous, but it is secure."  
  
"Works for me. Got any shoes that might fit me? Sandals would be good. Oh, and where's the bathroom?"  
  
  
"Let me look, and the bathroom's through there," he waved at a door.   
  
Once the door was shut I stripped off my pants and my ruined nylons. I had rolled my pants cuffs so they were still in good shape, but I made sure to clean my feet off and examine them carefully. Slayer healing may make it much much harder for nasty bugs to get a grip on me, but it isn't perfect. There were only a few small cuts and fortunately they were healing nicely. In fact, they should be gone in an hour or so.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Hang on David," I dried my feet off, pulled my pants back on, and went back into the main room. David had a pair of hiking sandals in his hand. They weren't pretty but they would do until I could get to a shoe store so I took them gratefully.  
  
He sat down in the only chair while I sat on the edge of the bed, "So, what have I gotten myself into Agent Summers?"  
  
"A few years ago, I stumbled into an unauthorized bioweapon program run by a Dr. Margaret Walsh. Like I mentioned before she was testing weapon samples on US civilians and military personnel without their knowledge. There were a bunch of deaths and I kind of fell into the middle of the project. With a lot of luck and some awesome friends we shut it down, but because of the nature of the op Maggie was left free. I thought she had lost any clout she had, but obviously I was wrong. Also obviously she thinks she knows what I can do, but she is sooooo wrong on that."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Oh yeah, if she knew she really would have sent a LOT more guys. Would six guys have stopped you?"  
  
David shook his head, "No, but I'm not exactly a normal agent."  
  
"Neither am I."  
  
"So what now?"  
  
"Maggie is a hands-on kind of micro-manager pointy-haired boss type. She's in Paris and probably really worried now. She knows I have nasty friends, that's why she fed the retrieval team the traitor BS. I wouldn't be surprised if the three letter community all got that bulletin."  
  
"I know the feeling."  
  
"Yeah, I kinda thought you would. Anyways she thinks she's cut me off from any kind of supportage. The big question is why does she want me alive? If she wanted me dead she could've pulled that off in the States."  
  
"She needs you for something. Maybe how you can do what you do?"  
  
"She could've grabbed me in the States too though. She needed to grab me or kill me out of the country. Why?"  
  
"She wants the package. You said she had lost big the last time you met her right?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Well, this way she gets revenge on you when you do her smuggling."  
  
"She specializes in bio-weaponry, but this stuff isn't marked hazardous," I pointed at the vials.  
  
"Well, let's find out what it is then."  
  
"Sounds good, but I need some new shoes first..."

**Probe**

The only upside of losing my shoes was that I lost them in Paris. At least here I could get some cute replacements. Even though David was a total buzzkill and wouldn't let me do any real shopping. I mean seriously, I'm in freaking Paris! I was able to get reshod on our way to a private testing lab that David knew about.  
  
David was something else. He had obviously been in the spooky business for a while and it showed. He instinctively kept a low profile; making sure cameras wouldn't pick up our faces, using crowds to block lines of sight, covering his hand with his shirt sleeve when opening doors. He was tuned into spotting surveillance like I was to spotting demons and it was reassuring to know I was with a pro.   
  
When we had arrived at the lab, David had a quiet conversation in French with the guy behind the reception desk before sliding over one of the vials. He then nodded at me and we left.  
  
"So?"  
  
"It will take them some time to analyze it. They'll contact us when it's done."  
  
"Cool. Now what?"  
  
"Are you pro-active or reactive?"  
  
"Oh I'm a get-them-first kind of gal."  
  
"Good. Let's find this Walsh."

  
We were on a side street over by the Arc de Triomphe looking for things that did not belong. Namely American covert security teams or their vehicles. David had suggested Le Royal Monceau Hotel, because obviously Walsh was running this op off the books, and the built-in level of security and discretion that the insane per night cost would give her was worth the investment.  
  
David was carrying a bag with a few baguettes to block a good view of his face and other groceries while I had a floppy sunhat and a large shoulder bag with our weapons. As we walked down the block, we chatted in Russian about a dinner party until we had finished our sweep.  
  
"How many Buffy?"  
  
"Two Mercedes. Each with two guys with high and tights and ugly suits. They didn't look surly enough to be rent-a-goons."  
  
"There's a sniper's nest up on the building across the street. Sixth floor, four windows from this end. It probably has a clear view of both the main and trade entrances...and there was the Audi with two more high and tights in it. Also the plates that both Mercedes and the Audi had, were from a batch obtained by the CIA four years ago. There's something covert going on here. Would you recognize any of her personnel?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Quite a few."  
  
"Then let's have an espresso and watch for a while."  
  
We sat down at one of the millions of street corner cafes and I carefully watched the front door of the hotel. David pulled a cellphone from his pocket and dialed.  
  
"Doctor Walsh's room please. I have a package for her right outside," he then lowered the phone till it was under the table and away from his head.

  
It was anthill kicking time. As soon as I saw the first guys exit the Mercedes, I nodded at David. He switched off the phone and pulled the battery. I had a decent view of the trade entrance and that's where I saw Sergeants Finn and Gates exit.  
  
"She's there."  
  
"Good. We go in tonight."  
  
"Sure." We had time to finish our coffees and I had a slice of tasty quiche before David said it was safe to move on. As we were heading on our meandering way back to the safehouse I had a thought.  
  
"Walsh is probably doing the monitory-thingy to my contacts in the DoD. Even so, if I could get to an secure telephone I could get some help. I have other contacts in the civvie side, but seeing as she has enough pull to use PAVE LOWs, she probably could call up Echelon wiretapping to do the name sniffage."  
  
"I'm fairly sure she has a secure system in her suite. Otherwise the only ones you might be able to get to are at the Embassy."  
  
"Oh yeah...On the other hand, do you have another burner cell?"  
  
He handed over a phone.  
  
"How many of those do you carry?" I turned it on.  
  
"Enough, I hope."  
  
I dialed the number from memory and there was the scratchy ringing of an overseas call.  
  
"Extension 3956," a woman's voice answered, "This line is not secure."  
  
"Tell Sam, Killer Blonde, C-4 Earmuffs, Dutch, Paris."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You got it on tape I know," I hung up and crushed the phone.  
  
"What was that about?"  
  
"Oh, I got us some backup of the curious and violent kind. Only problem is, I'm not too sure-ish when it will arrive or what exactly who or what it will be."  
  
"Well we have a raid to prep for. When and if the backup arrives, then we'll compensate for it."  
  
**a/n**  
Sam is Property of Ubisoft  
Dutch is Property of Fox

**24 Hour Party People**

We made it back to David's safe-house and geared up. He had a decent little armory in the cluttered basement and along with the MP5s we had borrowed from the assault team we had secure communications, a small supply of plastic explosive, suppressed pistols, and rope and climbing harnesses. With a quick stop to pick me up a black turtleneck, black jeans and a couple of balaclavas and sets of gloves, we were ready to go at dusk.  
  
With our more unusual gear tucked in a duffel bag, and jackets on over our shoulder holsters, we caught a cab several blocks from the safe-house. Getting out a block from the hotel, we walked slowly towards it, just another couple in the Paris night. Occasionally as we passed an extremely expensive car, David or I would brush against it and slip a small package into a wheel well. When we had six cars prepped we walked into the vestibule of the apartment building next to the hotel.  
  
While I blocked the view from the street David picked the lock and soon we were walking through the lobby to the night manager's desk.  
  
"Oui?"  
  
He looked surprised as we hadn't rung the bell and he was one of those guys that takes pride in knowing all the tenants. I smiled at him with full California gleam as I walked towards him.  
  
"Hi! Pierre gave us his keys to return to you."  
  
"Pierre?" by this time I was within arm's reach and in another second he was out cold. David moved him into the back office and sitting him in a comfy chair, tied and gagged him.  
  
"Get his keys."  
  
I slipped them off his belt loop thingy and jingled them, "Keys gotten."  
  
David nodded and we crossed the lobby to the elevator. At least it was on this floor, so soon we were heading up.

  
We exited on the service level below the penthouse and headed to the fire stairs. I watched closely as David disabled the door alarms and picked the lock. Before we started up he pulled on his balaclava and opened the duffel. I took off my jacket, slipped on a climbing harness, and slung an MP5 and pack on my back. David stuffed our jackets into the duffel and hid it behind a pile of old furniture before slinging his own submachine gun. I tucked my hair up into my balaclava and yanked it down over my face as I headed up the stairs.  
  
We passed the penthouse door and kept heading up to the roof. This last door only had a simple lock on it which David quickly opened. I carefully swung the door open an inch or so and scanned the rooftop. As David had predicted there were two guys with night-vision gear up here looking down at the street. I opened the door a little farther so David could see. He pointed at the one on the left and pointed at me. I nodded and in a crouch, started slowly moving forward, being careful only to watch the observer out of the corner of my eye. Nothing will alert a sentry faster than staring at the back of their heads.  
  
When I was directly behind my target, I stood up and had him in a sleeper hold before he could squeak. He tried struggling, but you know, it didn't do him much of the good. I looked over and saw David had sapped the other sentry with the butt of his pistol and was easing him to the roof.  
  
After they were secured and propped up in a fair appearance of being guardy types. We hustled to the back of the roof and looked down at the hotel two floors below and an alley away.  
  
"Rope," I started visualizing my landing position and cover. There were two guards walking patrol around the edges of the hotel roof. David tied the line to the carabiner clipped to the back of my harness.  
  
"You sure you can do this?" he actually sounded concerned. How sweet.  
  
I rolled my eyes at him, "Well duh...Otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it."  
  
"Okay then, you're tied off. Try not to miss."  
  
"Yeah that would kinda sting I guess," I backed up and with a running start leaped out over the alley to the other roof.   
  
I hit just as I planned, gripping some of the decorations just below the gutter. David's voice whispered in my earpiece.  
  
"All clear so far. You okay?"  
  
"Peachy," I whispered back, "Thing 1 and Thing 2, where are they?"  
  
"One is turning towards me. Two is on the far side."  
  
"Does One see the line?"  
  
"No, he's turning back to face Two...Go now!"  
  
I did a chin up and swung onto the roof before slipping behind a chimney, "Ready! Tie off the line."  
  
I felt it tighten so I grabbed onto the chimney as tightly as possible. A second later there was a vibration through the line as David did a diagonal fast rope to me. Then he was there and unsnapping the line. He shook off the burned through outer gloves he was wearing then pulled out a small remote.  
  
"Go," then pressed the button.

  
Down on the street the small charge that I had put in a Ferrari's wheel well went off with very little noise, but enough vibration to trigger its alarm. As soon as the roof guards turned to look down at it we were moving towards them. They went down as quickly as the first two and were secured as well. Then we were moving to the roof access and David started working on the lock.  
  
As I covered him I saw a flicker of movement on the roof across the street. Squinting, I saw it was a sniper crumpling in a heap and a black-suited figure slipping away from the body.  
  
"We've got company up here."  
  
David spun and I pointed at the opposite roof, "Some party crasher took out a sniper over there."  
  
"Did they see us?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
He turned and finished opening the lock, "In."  
  
I swung in and drew my pistol. The stairwell was empty and David was right behind me.  
  
We moved down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. The guards we had taken out would be missed due to their lack of radio chatter. Sooner more likely then of the later. Once that happened it would get exciting.  
  
We made it to the top floor when I started hearing a high-pitched whine that made my teeth hurt.  
  
"Ultrasonics. At least two emitters."  
  
David pulled an olive drap canister with white lettering out of his pack and pulled the door open just wide enough to roll it out with pin pulled.  
  
The AN-M8 does only one thing, but it does it really really well. It makes the most amazing amount of white smoke. In addition if you carefully crush trioxane heat tabs and place them inside the body of the grenade , it does a pretty good job of making people think they're being tear gassed. We still had the masks we had borrowed from the assault team so were fine, then the fire alarms went off.  
  
I stepped out into the smoke and started shooting out the lights. With subsonic loads there was only a slight pop and the tinkle of broken glass. David threw another doctored smoke grenade down the hall. Even with the alarm bells ringing I could hear the thud of combat boots so I grabbed David's arm and pointed at the door across the way before hitting it with a flying kick.  
  
The door collapsed onto a big guy with an M4 who had just been about to open it. With an oak door and me on top of him and a lung full of ersatz riot gas, he was an easy take down. I scooped up the M4 and leaned the door back into place after David threw his last two smoke grenades into the hall.  
  
David started setting up his four angle iron channels that I had been carrying tied to my pack on the floor.  
  
"You sure this is the right place?"  
  
"Doctrine recommends a floor buffer above a secure site. You want to keep close to the stairwell to be able to have security forces reinforce quickly. Walsh is probably right below us. Fire in the hole..."  
  
We turned away as he triggered the shaped breeching charge which cut a neat rectangle out of the floor and dropped it into the room below followed by the two of us.  
  
"Heya Maggie, looking for me?"

**9\. Crash**

A breeching charge is nothing but explosive molded in a particular way and applied to a surface to provide easy access when made to go kaboom. To save time (and explosives!), lining the inside of a piece of angle iron with aforementioned boom making substances (molded in the correct shape of course), and then applying the angle to the poor unsuspecting door needing surface is the way to go.  
  
With the blast tamped with the sandbags that had been weighing down my pack, there was very little force up and a lot down into the floor. Since David and I knew the blast was coming we were able to jump through before the occupants had a clue about what was going on...  
  
"Heya Maggie, looking for me?"

  
Doctor Walsh was stumbling across the room trying to clear plaster dust from her eyes and drawing a pistol, while Sergeant Finn was swinging his M4 towards the center of the sudden blast. Gates was nowhere to be seen.  
  
David stepped up to Finn and slapped the M4's barrel down towards the floor with his left hand while launching an right elbow strike at Finn's face. There was a satisfying thud as Finn's head snapped back but it didn't drop him. I turned towards Walsh and pulled the gun out of her hand.  
  
"You wanted me, now you got me," My voice was pretty muffled due to the gas mask, but I was pretty sure she understood me by the way her eyebrows vanished up under her hair.  
  
"Summers!"  
  
"Hey! You're not as much of an idiot as I thought you were. Now Doctor, why don't you start telling me why you set me up and what that package is, before I start performing a pre-death autopsy on you..."  
  
"You actually think you have me cornered? God Summers, you're such a naive little punk."  
  
At that point my spider sense flared up behind me. I ducked and rolled as a huge shape crashed through the suite's door sending chunks of wood everywhere. Walsh was laughing like a lunatic and I realized she was completely insane.  
  
The shape, that had just rudely interrupted our besties heart-to-heart, was man-shaped and about the size of a small car. It had muscles on its muscles, rough boney plates that were ickily pushing to the surface of its skin as I watched, spikes (also growing) on its knuckles and a mouth with way too many, way too sharp, teeth.  
  
David and Finn had been bulldozed to one side by this thing's entrance.  
  
"Sergeant Gates!" the thing paused at Walsh's voice, "Kill him and capture her."  
  
It nodded and stepped towards David. I let go of Walsh and swung my M4 at it and held down the trigger. Most of the rounds ricocheted off its armor plates and went flying overhead. The ones that hit flesh released a gooey black liquid instead of blood.  
  
Finn, using the sudden distraction, picked up a heavy wood desk one handed and slung hit at David who dropped prone just in time to watch it smash through the French doors leading to the balcony behind him before dropping towards the street.  
  
"What is that?" David's voice still sounded calm as he rolled to his feet, narrowly dodging another piece of high velocity furniture.  
  
"Kinda supernatural, mostly bulletproof, and really violent? Maybe time to go?"  
  
"Yes," he fired his pistol at Finn hitting him in the chest and the arm. The arm hit sprayed out sparks. Then Finn staggered back violently as the sound of a high powered rifle round cracked through the room.  
  
The round had caught him in the skull. Tearing off the skin and hair and displaying shiny metal underneath. He spun slowly around and then straightened up and called over to the monstrosity, "Across the street. Sniper."   
  
The Gates-thing turned towards me, then grabbed a sofa and flung it through the ruined French doors. I could hear the crash as it impacted on the building across the way.  
  
I punched Walsh in the face and rolled away from the Gates-thing's grab before heading towards the balcony. The cracks of more rifle rounds sailing over my head and into the thing's head made me duck, but apparently the Gates-thing didn't mind lead based facials as the only effect was to make it growl and roar louder.   
  
David had joined me by this time, so I ripped down one of the drapes and wrapping it around the balcony rail, slid down to the room below before kicking in its French doors.  
  
This suite had obviously been a staging area for more of Walsh's people as there was commo gear and other assorted mil-spec junk lying around. At that moment the room shuddered from a huge impact from Walsh's suite. Cracks started showing up on the plastered ceiling and the chandelier jumped.  
  
David looked at me, "Run?"  
  
"Run."

  
We took off through the open door plowing through the two guys in our way and headed for the elevators. After I pried open the doors we started climbing, as our best way of escape was off the roof.

**Tactical Withdrawal**

There was a massive crash shortly after we started our climb up the side ladder in the elevator shaft. I had closed the doors behind us so there shouldn't have been much of a trail for them to follow, but only God and Walsh knew what kind of senses Gates-thing and Robo-Finn had.  
  
The elevator started dropping from two stories above us. Probably reinforcements from the floor we gassed. We hugged the wall as it passed and kept climbing when we heard the door ding. One more floor and we were in the equipment room at the top of the shaft. Staying low to keep out of view of any cameras we headed to the door where David started disabling the alarm. I so need to learn how to do more of the B and E-ish stuff that doesn't involve property damage.  
  
The door opened up onto the roof and our getaway. Running over to where we had left the rope David snugged it around the chimney I had clung to and began commando crawling up the incline. As soon as he was on his way I hopped on and did the same. In the eternity, which couldn't have taken more than ten minutes, that followed I kept my eyes and ears open to the insanity going on at street level.  
  
Police car, fire engine, and ambulance sirens were homing in and I could even hear the faint thump of helicopter rotors. There was a pretty good sized crowd forming as smoke was still pouring out of the top floors from the all the grenades David had been using. At least the smoke was screening the view from the street to us.

  
Finally we made the crossing and untied the rope on this side and dropping the free end down into the alley letting it swing across till it was against the walls of the hotel. With a little luck, maybe they'd think we had rappelled down to a lower floor? Then down to the utility room we had used as a staging area to recover our jackets and dump our packs and the now empty M4.  
  
"Follow me," David was heading to the fire stairs at a dead run. Sounded good to me. We went down three floors before exiting into a empty hall.  
  
"I didn't see any lights come on in the corner apartment," I nodded and waited while he opened the door. Listening carefully I couldn't hear anybody in here except us, so I slipped in with David following me and shutting the door.  
  
"Talk to me Summers," he moved into the dining room and sat down in a pretty comfy looking chair.  
  
I took a deep breath and sat down as well, "The world is older than you know..."

**Next Problem**

"Huh..." David didn't look surprised or even really worried about my sanity after I had given him the standard speech. That surprised and worried me.  
  
"And that 'Huh' means...?"  
  
"Oh not much. Just that it would explain some things I've seen during missions."  
  
"That's...comforting I guess?"  
  
"Actually yes. The Agency messed around with my head to make me a better killer. Good to know that those weren't hallucinatory side-effects."  
  
"What do you mean messed with your head?"  
  
"I was part of a program called Treadstone. They wiped our minds and programmed us to be perfectly controllable assassins. No hesitation, no regret. A while back I...lost my conditioning and saw that we were going well beyond our mandate. I shut Treadstone and its controllers down."  
  
"Wow. I'm...sorry?"  
  
"I volunteered and I thought I knew what I was getting into. It sounds like you didn't have that choice. I'm the one who should be sorry Buffy."  
  
"Right. Now what?"  
  
"Work the problem. You haven't forgotten your training have you?" he was kind of smiling as he said that.  
  
  
"Yeaaaaah, thanks Mister Experienced Covert Operator. Pick on the poor little blond Lieutenant why don't you..." I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.  
  
"Situation; Messed up. I mean Situation, enemy forces thirty troops plus. They're actively searching for us immediately outside," I peeked out the window, "In teams of three. Walsh used former Rangers before and used ISA earlier so they are all probably SOCOM with DARPA technical support. Armed with standard small arms. I didn't see any heavy weapons except for Gates, but Walsh has access to some serious nastiness."  
  
"Not bad. Capabilities and limitations?"  
  
"Uh, well trained in light infantry tactics...good communications...signal interception...maybe satellite recon-age? That's on their plus side. On their minus side we're in France. That means they have to be operating in a mostly secretish way 'cause the French really don't like anybody screwing around in their country. The secrety bit is pretty much destroyed so Walsh's peeps are going to have to clear out really soon or she's gonna have some Lucy style 'splainage to do."  
  
"So they're going to pull back?"  
  
"Probably. Find a new place to hide out and start searching for us...me. David you can take off anytime. They don't know who you are and..."  
  
"No. I don't like agencies that operate like this."  
  
"Oh. Okay?"  
  
"Continue."  
  
"Right. We have us and whoever General Schaefer sends, like that sniper that ruined Finn's face."  
  
"That was some of the support you called in?"  
  
"I'm really not sure, but they did do the supporty thing. If I can get an unmonitored call to London, LA, or Boston, I can get some truly scary back-up in a day or so. I don't think Walsh knows exactly what I can do, but her part of DARPA is the place where they think up things like Treadstone, so if she knows who you are, she might know how to break you."  
  
"True."  
  
"Yeah so don't go poking your face around mister. Anyway, we just have to shut her operation down, find out what's in those vials, take out supernaturally and technologically enhanced experienced special warfare operators, and keep from getting arrested by the French government."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I have Nooooo idea, but we should probably start getting out of here when Walsh's people clear the area. Maybe head underground again. She has used satellites before."  
  
"Okay," he peeked out from behind the curtains at the street, "They're pulling back. Police and fire are here. Looks like they just torched the top three floors to cover their tracks."  
  
"Then it's time to go," we got our stuff together and moved to the apartment door. I listened carefully but didn't hear any movement in the hallway. Carefully swinging the door open we headed for the stairs. There were quiet voices in the stairwell above us and we could hear at least two guys coming down after us.

  
We stuck close to the wall so they couldn't see us if they glanced down over the railing, and moved as quickly as we could without making any noise. David was Angel level of quiet so I wasn't worried about him, and my practice sneaking up on demons helped me move without attracting unwanted steel-jacketed love. Then the French police entered the stairwell as we were creeping by one of the landings.  
  
There was a group of four wearing body armor and carrying rifles, probably like a SWAT team. With the gunfire and explosions that wasn't that unlikely an encounter. They saw us all sneaky walking and immediately yelled halt or something. The guys coming down the stairs after us couldn't miss it.

**And Now Three**

"Americans with guns...coming down the stairs!" Even my pitiful comprehension of French caught what David stage-whispered to the team leader as he dragged me to the floor.  
  
The SWAT team half-assisted, half-dragged David and I behind them and through the door they had exited. The trail element cuffed us behind our backs, hooded us, and set us against a wall. As soon as I could I broke my cuffs.  
  
"Free?" I whispered in Arabic.  
  
"Almost...Yes."  
  
I stood up and pulled off my hood. The guy guarding us was right where I had heard him scuff his feet and I got to him just as gunfire started in the stairwell.

  
The SWAT team had politely said halt. Walsh's folks had responded with gunfire. As the SWAT guys were kinda expecting gunfire they were behind excellent cover. Score stood at currently: ISA goons 0, Paris SWAT 1. Oh yeah, Paris SWAT in Hallway 0, Buffy 1. He wasn't unconscious, merely restrained.  
  
David had grabbed the duffel bag we had dropped when we were cuffed and was heading for the elevators. When he had gotten the door open, I tapped Mister Policeman in the gut just hard enough to knock the wind out of him, apologized, and sprinted to join him.  
  
We were on the third floor up and with the basement and sump pit made it a forty foot drop or so. I sighed and scooped up David in my arms.  
  
"I will need new shoes again," then jumped into the shaft.  
  
I couldn't roll out at the end, due to carrying David. So I kind of had to do the flat-footy landing thing and felt something in my leg pop on the impact.  
  
"Needing some help here."  
  
"Problem?"  
  
"Left knee went out."  
  
"Okay," he slung me over his shoulder and carried me through the sump access door into the basement. After some poking around he found a door that led to stairs up to the alley and in a few minutes we were back in the sewers and could take a breather.  
  
As he caught his breath I poked experimentally at my knee. It didn't feel like anything was torn; just sprained really badly.  
  
"How bad?"  
  
"Messed up but not permanently. I'll be good in a few hours. Walking on it will slow down my healing though."  
  
"How tough are you really?"  
  
"Very, just think of me with pink floppy ears and band pounding a drum. That Gates-thing though, totally higher weight-class. He could probably rip me in half without trying."  
  
"Problem to work on then. Can Walsh get Signal Intercept?"  
  
"No problem. I'm pretty sure she's got BFFs in the NSA and National Reconnaissance Office."  
  
"And she has your voice sample. She can find, tag, and record any call you make. Read any emails you send to known associates. How is your back-up going to find us?"  
  
"That sniper? I don't know. I'm pretty sure General Schaefer is going to have people on site really soon though, so Walsh is going to have to get sneakier to avoid them and the French government."  
  
I heard a faint splash in the darkness of the sewer, "Company," I whispered.  
  
David nodded, "I heard it too," we drew our pistols as the splashes drew closer.  
  
"Don't shoot, I'm on your side!" It was a girl's voice speaking in English with a German accent.  
  
"Who are you?" I called back.  
  
"My name is Hanna, who are you?"  
  


**Fire Support**

So there were three of us splashing through the Parisian yuck. Hanna Heller had not been screwed over by Walsh directly, but by another section of Walsh's research team. Marissa Wiegler, one of Walsh's associates, had ordered Hanna's mom and dad killed leaving her an orphan at 16. So Hanna, who had been trained by her dad, whacked her. She was 17 now and gorgeous, and at least four inches taller than me. It just isn't fair.   
  
I may have kinda pressed her on who her dad was that he could train her for that kind of long range shooting, but she just answered, "He was my father."  
  
I really couldn't argue with that so we kept moving. I had my Slayer powers and David had this whole mind-body integration through bio-feedback going so we were really moving, but Hanna, even hauling her rifle, was keeping up with no problem. Heck even David was looking a little more tired than she was and I was limping on a messed up knee.  
  
"So General Schaefer didn't send you?" I broke the ice on one of our rest stops.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"This Walsh gathers vendettas. I've known a couple of people like that," David added.  
  
"She was responsible for ordering my mother killed. After I removed Wiegler, she was the next logical target. Why are you after her?"  
  
"She has a history of making poor decisions whenever I'm involved. Using me for bait in a bio-weapon research program to just plain out trying to kill-slash-capture me. It usually doesn't end well for her and her people."  
  
David spoke up, "She only tried to kill me and her research methods are something I have objections to."  
  
"Are either of you CIA?"  
  
"Nope. I work for the US State Department and David's retired."  
  
"So what were those monsters?"  
  
"The big one's name is Sergeant Forrest Gates, the guy who went all Terminator when you shot him is Sergeant Riley Finn. Both former Army Rangers. Walsh is a fan of extreme experimentation with things she really shouldn't mess with. Like I said she has a history of poor decision making."  
  
"Terminator?"  
  
"Yeah, Mister Robot Face. What did you hit him with anyway?"  
  
She slipped a large cartridge out of one of the pockets on her assault vest, ".300 Winchester Magnum with 180 grain boat tail soft point. Its ballistics are very stable and normally it has excellent stopping power."  
  
"Well, there's not a whole lot of normal in this operation in case you hadn't noticed. How did you find us underground?"  
  
"After I took my shot I saw the pair of you exit the suite through the window. I neutralized the two individuals who were attempting to pursue, and after making sure they were not...Terminators? I proceeded with my own extraction protocol which was also into the sewers. Once under cover I waited to see if pursuit was imminent and heard your conversation and movement. Your voice is quite distinctive. Is this a formal debrief?"  
  
"Uh...no. Not really," I poked at my knee and it only throbbed horribly. I was as good to go as possible for the moment. David looked over and raised an eyebrow. I sighed and nodded then staggered to my feet. Hanna and David stood as well; Hanna lifting a large rifle case and David picking up our duffel as they rose.  
  
"We'd better get moving, Walsh will send people down here sooner or later," I sighed at David's comment then nodded again and the three of us continued on into the underground.

**Ready to Rumble**

After a shower or three at David's safehouse I felt a whole lot better. Some of his gear was monitoring the radio chatter using the decrypters on the headsets I had grabbed.  
  
Hanna was cleaning her rifle sitting crosslegged on the floor, her hair wrapped in a towel. David was reloading MP5 magazines and eating a sandwich, and I was trying to figure out what the local police were chattering about.  
  
The best I could tell, someone had set fire to the hotel after we had gotten clear and 'witnesses' were claiming that they saw middle-eastern individuals fleeing the scene. The only problem with this cover story was that the Parisian SWAT team in the stairwell had killed one and captured the other three of the guys that had been chasing us. Unfortunately for Walsh and company, her story had been released after the police had her guys in custody, but before that fact had hit the airwaves. I could just imagine the poor US Ambassador being woken up at three in the morning with a what-the...? situation like this. It did make me giggle a little.  
  
"So," Hanna spoke up as she finished wiping down the bolt on her rifle, "What are you Buffy? Are you like me?"  
  
"Huh? What do you mean?"  
  
"You are much stronger than you look and have an impressive sense of combat awareness. Were you genetically engineered too?  
  
I stopped dead at that and even David froze mid-bite.  
  
It took a sec for my brains to do the re-engagey thingy. David of course recovered faster.  
  
"You're one of Walsh's bioweapon projects?"  
  
Hanna nodded, "My father said I was engineered for strength, stamina, speed, reduction in fear response, and separation of emotional state from operational capability. I was the only survivor of my batch of prototypes. I tracked down Dr. Walsh through Marissa Wiegler's phone records and determined that she was the one that issued the termination order on my mother. So are you an earlier prototype Buffy?"  
  
My brain had started up again, "Uh no. I am...something else completely different."  
  
"It sounds like a enhanced version of Treadstone. Start with psychological conditioning on a physiological level," David was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.   
  
"What are you then Buffy?"  
  
"I'm a Slayer. I kill monsters."  
  
Hanna rushed over and hugged me, "You'll help me kill Dr. Walsh then?"  
  
I nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'd say she qualifies for slayage."

  
A few minutes of testing showed that Hanna wasn't nearly as strong as me, but could easily haul 400 pounds dead-weight up a ladder and had reaction times slightly slower than David. She also felt pain differently and described it as 'annoying'.  
  
David had grabbed a delivery van from somewhere and we were currently watching an old Treadstone safe house/staging area. According to the police radio chatter, there was an APB out for the good doctor and any of her troops. The intercepts we had gotten from Walsh's radio net gave us the general idea that they were regrouping at the building we were now staring at. So far no goons. Stake out as usual.  
  
All three of us were wearing assault vests now. I had my MP5 and a pair of combat knives that David had lying in his stockpile along with my Sig, David had his Beretta, and Hanna had a Benelli shotgun and a small silver pistol.  
  
We had punched a peephole in the cargo area of the van so we could take turns watching the building. Fortunately it had started to rain slightly so thermal viewers were not of the omniscient power, but we had still piled up rugs on the side wall to help damp our heat output.  
  
"They're here."  
  
David had spotted them during his notice-the-badguys shift. Three cars and a few SUVs had pulled into the warehouse's parking lot and were starting to off-load people and gear. Then a semi pulled in and immediately drove inside the loading area. God only knew what Walsh had inside that thing.  
  
I picked up the FAL I had borrowed from David's stockpile and lifted the improvised trapdoor we had cut in the van's floor before dropping through into the pre-opened manhole. This time Walsh wasn't getting away.

**Dramatic Entrance**

Sewers are sewers no matter where you go. They stink, they're wet and dirty, and they're usually a pretty good way to sneak up on someone you don't want to see you.  
  
Of course most folks that you might want to sneak up on know this too, if they have half a brain at least. So they put alarms, guards, traps, demonic crocodiles...You know, typical defensey stuff...down there in the muck for the sneakee to run into. Walsh may have had a severe lack of common sense, but she wasn't an idiot.  
  
I picked up the high frequency whine early and in a little bit I saw that Hanna had picked it up as well by the way her head cocked and turned to triangulate the source. I tapped David on the shoulder and whispered, "Ultrasonic motion detectors. Probably around the next bend."  
  
He nodded and dropped to his stomach in the ankle deep sludge, before carefully easing his way around the edge. Then he started crawling forward; about an two or three inches every minute. Slowly his body disappeared around the curve as I crouched there, fidgeting. Hanna put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. I smiled back as we sat there waiting.  
  
About 45 minutes later I heard faint splashing then a low whistle. We moved forward and saw that David had mostly taken a detector apart and had rewired it to some black box of his.  
  
"Wireless. I'm faking the signals for all the other sensors on the network feed. We'll be clear when we need to be," he duct taped the box to the wall next to the sensor then moved out.

  
Walsh's group knew their business. Tripwires, pressure pads under the sludge, beam breakers. All these things were well-hidden and installed in the worst most annoying places to get at or avoid.But David was like some kind of ghost with his spotting and disabling of the various systems. I started making mental notes on how he was doing all this stuff and I could tell Hanna was doing the same. Finally David raised his hand and moved back to us.  
  
"They should have put something at this wall section but didn't. I think we're inside their perimeter now. Now it's more likely to be guard patrols." I nodded and flexed my fingers before taking point. This was my kind of work.  
  
I really don't like killing people. No real soldier does. It's part of the job, but it's not the one a good soldier looks forward to. That said, my inhibitions against killing were currently at an all time low. Walsh was a psychopathic genius with a huge black budget and no scruples. Still I tried to incapacitate the two patrols we encountered instead of doing easy take-outs. 2 of the 4 survived with no major injury. One got bent a little when he tried to shoot me and I buttstroked him in the face with his own weapon. The other tried to run and Hanna got him in the leg with a thrown knife.   
  
At this point we had hogtied them all and kept going until we came to what seemed to be a checkpoint. We had been moving fast to hopefully avoid any Fail To Respond situations. But the chatter we had been picking up on our newly borrowed commo gear suggested they hadn't set up any procedures yet and they were still operating on a frag order. Their techs must have really hustled to get the sensor perimeter up as early warning stopgap-age, while the grunts were getting the rest of the security organized.  
  
The checkpoint was what sounded like a bunch of guys by a ladder leading up to an open manhole. As near as I could figure it out with dead reckoning and pace count, was that we were directly underneath the back parking lot of the warehouse. I looked at Hanna and David. They were slinging their weapons getting their game-faces on. I nodded and slung my rifle then we charged.

  
There were six of them in a pumproom-slash-maintenance vault thingy. Two had their weapons in hand, short-barreled shotguns. Hanna hit the first one of those with a brutal looking uppercut that sounded like it dislocated his jaw. David had the second one in a control grip with an elbow and the throat and was guiding him into a valve at speed. I chopped my first opponent in the throat so he couldn't yell for help, grabbed the second in a sleeper hold and head-butted a third.  
  
David's first opponent was squirting blood from a huge gash on the forehead and seemed unconscious, Hanna's was down and bleeding from the ears and nose. The guy I chopped was on his knees choking while Mr. Headbutt was flat on his back on the floor. Hanna had switched to a new target and double ear clapped him as she kneed him in the junk. He lifted off the ground from the impact and collapsed in a heap. I tripped the last one as I tightened the sleeper-hold on my second target. The trip-ee crashed into the ladder only to be beaten into the wall by David.  
  
We stood there waiting for some kind of a response from above. None of us were even breathing hard. The only sounds were some groans and bubbling noises from a couple of the checkpoint guards.  
  
I started up the ladder and carefully peered over the edge. With ten guards out of the picture Walsh had to be running low on personnel, but that didn't mean she had run dry of muscle. There were a couple of Polgara demons behind one of the containers scattered in the lot. They weren't visible from the street in their current position, but they had a clear line of sight to the manhole. I slipped back down.  
  
"Two of Walsh's bioweapons are out there. Heavily armored, really strong, have an extendible bone spear in their fore-arms.  
  
"Bulletproof?" David was drawing his pistol and screwing on a suppressor.  
  
"Not sure, I've never used a gun on one. Knives will cut them. Heart and brain are in the normal places though," David climbed the ladder in that scary silent way of his. I clicked my MP5's selector to single shot and climbed after him, followed by Hanna.

  
The Polgara apparently didn't spot us as we rolled into the shadows of a container. I lined up on the left one's head, David on the right one's, and Hanna was covering with her shotgun. We both fired two quick shots and watched as their heads exploded. Sprinting from cover to cover we moved to the warehouse wall; staying low to minimize our presence from any hidden cameras.  
  
I lifted Hanna on to my shoulders then hoisted David up onto hers. From there he could reach one of the windows and began to disable any sensors on it. Swinging in he stuck a hand down for Hanna who used him as a ladder as I continued to hold onto her ankles, lifting me off the ground. Finally I was able to reach the window and swing myself in.  
  
We were up on a mezzanine looking down over a whole lot of activity. Whatever Walsh's plans were she was gambling pretty heavily on this facility. There must have been thirty people and the same amount or so of demons on guard duty and another twenty or so guys in white lab coats. This was not looking like an emergency site after all, but more like an operations center.

**Breaking Things (and People)**

The open area of the warehouse below us was divided into roughly three areas. A parking area with three semitrailers next to each other, a cluster of inflatable shelters, connected to the trailers by E.T. looking plastic corridors, and a troop area with a weapons cage and dining area plus a few tents which must be being used for sleeping quarters.  
  
"Oh this is so not of the good..." I groaned softly.  
  
"Sixty or so troops visible," there was David being all professional and calm, "Half human and half...other?"  
  
"'Other' works."  
  
"Half other. No heavy weapons out of the central cage, except for a few SAWs. Twenty plus support/research personnel."  
  
"This has to be all the forces she has access to, and this place is why she attacked me in Paris."  
  
"Hanna," David motioned to the girl, "We need Walsh alive if possible. Also, if anybody surrenders, let them live." He pointed to the girders overhead, "Get set up as overwatch."  
  
She pulled her rifle from its padded case and started climbing up.  
  
"Buffy..." he turned to face me.  
  
"I'm a soldier. I know what needs to be done even if I don't like doing it," I drew my knife.  
  
He gave me a sad half-smile, "Let's go then."

  
I am a very good ambusher with my enhanced senses and reflexes. David is better. We slowly started clearing the troops away from the walls. Unconscious if possible, dead if not. I glanced up occasionally to see if I could spot Hanna in her perch. No luck. That was good, because if I couldn't see her it wasn't very likely that the opposition could.  
  
Sometime during our first pass they went on alert. Obviously somebody had been missed or a body had been found, because instead of single guards they were now in groups of four. We had taken down fifteen which still left a lot of muscle on there side. Especially since we hadn't seen Finn or Gates yet.  
  
The first shot fired was from Hanna. Someone had had the bright idea to get on the mezzanine to see if they could spot the intruders. Hanna being on overwatch, dropped them before they could get up the ladder. That single high-powered rifle shot set off a mad minute.  
All the troops started firing up and outward. During the noise I took the opportunity to start sniping out the overhead lights with my MP5. There was still some light coming through the skylights, but now there were some serious shadows to hide in. Sam would have felt right at home.  
  
I heard a roar that had to have come from the Gates-Thing, over by the trailers.Then three loud rifle shots and much louder roaring. Hanna had taken an interest obviously. We had hidden between two of the inflatable lab sections and the goal was to lay low until the random firing died down. At the roar though, I got up and started moving towards Gates-Thing. I'm a Slayer, it's a monster. That's just how it is sometimes.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"I have to do this David. It's my mission."  
  
"I'll get Walsh then."  
  
"Thank you."

  
Finding the Gates-Thing was easy, just head for the bellowing. He...It...I don't even know anymore...was next to one of the trailers looking up at the ceiling trying to spot whoever was shooting him. I took the opportunity to methodically empty twenty rounds from the FAL into the back of his head. It didn't do much but get his attention.  
  
Quickly reloading I began shooting at his right knee. At least the impacts there got him stumbling slightly, but his hide was pretty darn bullet repellent. With a deep sigh, I put down my rifle and drew my knife. It's never easy to be me.  
  
He growled at me and pawed the ground slightly. Like a bull about to charge. I was giving him a once over. Checking out how the armor plates fitted. Where the gaps were. How much his range of motion was screwed up.  
  
His center of gravity was really low, meaning he was going to be basically impossible for me to knock down. He had grown heavy plates of armor over his shoulders, chest and thighs. His skull looked warped and thickened and the muscles in his arms looked like you use them in a bulldozer. He couldn't speak, only growl apparently, but his eyes still looked intelligent which meant he probably remembered all his Ranger training. But, the thought occurred to me, had he practiced with unarmed combat in this form?  
  
"Hey there Sergeant Gates. You ready to surrender so I don't hurt you?"  
  
He laughed with a scary growly sound.  
  
"I take it that's a big no? Well, you know I don't think you'll meet the height/weight standards this month. Maybe you'll have to go back to remedial PT."  
  
He laughed again and flexed his biceps. I was pretty sure they were as tall as me.  
  
"And no salute for an officer. What is the Army coming to? Oh well, guess I'll have to kick your feeble Ranger ass. You don't mind do you? Of course you don't. Walsh only needed a side of beef. Not anyone with a brain. Just someone weak-minded enough to say yes to so stupidly dangerous a procedure." that's when he charged.  
  
Fortunately with somebody that big there was plenty of warning, and it was simple to step aside as he ran into the wall. Unfortunately the wall looked in worse shape than he did after the impact. His next trick was to pick up an SUV and try to squash me with it. This didn't work, so he just threw the remains at me. punching an engine block-sized hole right through the masonry.  
  
With a running start I dived through the hole and was back in the parking lot next to the containers. There was a massive crash and a new hole appeared with the Gates-Thing in the center of it before he casually stepped outside to join me. Quick drawing my Sig I shot him in both eyes. He let out another roar and lunged, smashing into the container I had been kneeling in front of. I finished my sideways roll and squeezed off two shots into his right ear. That got me another roar and a backhanded swing that only missed my head by an inch or so as I dropped prone. Black goo was pouring from his right eye socket so my first round had to have done some damage. I could hurt him which meant I could slay him.  
  
We started playing a really dangerous game of tag around the lot. Every time I could get a shot at an ear, eye, or nostril I took it. In turn, he would throw whatever large, unwieldy, and potentially lethal object he was close to at your's truly. He was pretty accurate too. He had torn open and cracked my upper left arm with a cable spool he had discus-ed at me, and that was just a graze. I really didn't want to think about the damage a direct hit could cause. I was losing blood and the pain was amazing, but I didn't have any time to stop and check the wound. All I could do was hope that my Slayer healing wasn't on a lunch break or something.  
  
We kept going around and around, until I had finally maneuvered him to the place we had entered from. I stepped back against one of the containers and made audible gasping for air sounds. He roared again and started his charge.  
  
I stepped to one side and grabbing his left arm with my good right one, jumped up and swung down into the side of his left leg using him as a fulcrum. That made him stumble and sidestep and then scream as his left leg, up to his crotch, fell into the still open manhole. I had bounced away as soon as my kick was completed, and now I rushed him and jumped onto his back. He didn't have the flexibility to reach back and peel me off or even to hoist himself up. His low center of gravity and rigid armor had completely screwed him over.  
  
I had my knife out again and was pounding the hilt with the heel of my good hand, trying to drive it between two of the overlapping plates on the back of his neck. He was flailing around like mad, but his fall had wedged him in so tightly he wasn't going anywhere. Finally I pounded the knife in far enough and black goo started pouring out and his struggling started to fade. I let go as he slumped.  
  
"I told you I was going to kick your ass."

**Short Order Cook**

I managed to tape up the the wreckage of my left bicep and at least stop the blood loss. I felt kind of weak and I wanted to sleep for a month, but I had to get back inside to help David and Hanna.

  
I slipped back through the hole Gates had made on his exit to see a scene of absolute mayhem. Several of the inflatable tents were on fire and a thick greasy smoke was starting to fill the huge building. There was random firing, shouts and screams. It sounded like some of Walsh's experimental 'weapons' had gotten loose and were going for some serious payback.  
  
I hid in the smoke and took out whoever I came across as I headed for the stairs to the mezzanine. By the time I reached the second level I had dusted six vampires, beheaded a fish-demon with a nasty overbite, knocked out three cowering techs, and beaten up ten or so human troops. A Grastoon demon had spotted me taking out the second group of four vamps, yelled "Slayer!!!" and had taken off running.   
  
Soon there were yells of 'Slayer' echoing around the carnage and a large quantity of uglys were vacating as fast as possible. That was fine by me because I had spotted my target, Sergeant Finn.  
  
His face had had the flapping skin cut away so you could see the metal skull underneath. He was up on the balcony looking down and desperately trying to regain control of his troops. Then he spotted me and raised a M2HB heavy machinegun in response.

  
I dived over the railing and and landed on a couple of corpses which cushioned my fall. The heavy wham-wham-wham of the .50 Cal blasted overhead, chewing huge holes in whatever was unlucky enough to be in its cone of fire. Chunks of cinder block and empty shell casings were raining down. There was an explosion in the center of one of the tents. It might have been an oxygen tank, because the flameyness suddenly got a lot hotter really fast.  
  
I rolled away from the flames and closer to the warehouse wall so I was underneath the catwalk. At least in this position he would have to come down to my level to shoot me....unless he started firing through the catwalk...which of course he did.  
  
I scooped up a shotgun that was lying next to me as I scuttled out of the killzone and after cycling the action started spray-firing at Finn's muzzle flashes. He stopped firing for a second, at least long enough for me to get clear, before he recovered from being startled or whatever and resumed his barrage.  
  
The .50 Cal, I remembered from my textbooks, was developed from an anti-tank rifle round from World War I. Unfortunately I wasn't even as tough as a WWI tank so if any of those bullets connected, it would be bye bye Buffy. I had dropped the now empty shotgun and redrawn my trusty Sig, though if Hanna's heavy hitting sniper round hadn't taken him down, I really didn't have a whole lot of faith in my dinky 9 mill doing a whole lot of the damagey thing. Think Buffy. Work the problem. I felt the thud through the floor as he jumped down from the mezzanine. From the shockwave he probably weighed about three or four hundred pounds.   
  
So, what did I know?  
  
He was strong. At least as strong as me by the way he swung that machinegun around as a personal weapon, and basically bulletproof. His reaction time seemed to be human normal and his accuracy was very good, but not as good as mine. There was just so much I didn't know. What kind of senses did he have now? What kind of damage repair? How was he powered? Wait a second, an idea came forth just as he sprayed another long burst towards my hidey-hole. So his senses could pick me out through this smoke, probably thermal. I had a cure for that.  
  
I dived into the smoke and flaming wreckage of the burning tents and then another gas cylinder exploded. The armor in my assault vest stopped the fragments that hit me, but the pressure wave threw me across the building. I tucked into a ball and covered my face as I landed with a crash in the cafeteria; splintering the table I landed on and scattering chairs, food, and trays across the area. After a quick check I couldn't find any new damage to my poor battered body, but I had lost my pistol, sub-machine gun and even my knife during the short flight and rough landing.   
  
Glancing around I saw a couple of vending machines and the serving line. Maybe I could smother him with pancakes? Better idea, first slow him down. I sprinted over to my new improvised weapon and just gotten my hands on it when Finn came crashing through the flames, fortunately without the M2HB. I crouched, got a good grip on the corner, and threw the soda machine at him.  
  
One of the advantages of the Slayer is that who would expect a tiny little girl to be able to commit the scale of mayhem we're capable of. In Finn's case he saw a fairly scorched 5'2" bleached blonde squat lift a six hundred pound vending machine and throw it at him so fast he couldn't react in time.  
  
It caught him right in the face and its momentum knocked him flat before it landed on him. I walked over to to the wreckage, lugging the candy machine with me, and dropped it on him as well. He was still twitching and trying to move. But eight hundred pounds or so of dead weight would slow me down if it was lying on top of me. I ran over to the serving line and grabbed a couple of forks and the extension cord connected to the steam trays. Stripping the socket wire off the end I wrapped one conductor around each fork, then jammed the forks in Finn's ears before plugging the cord back in.  
  
There was a lot of sparking and smoke and shuddering then I guess the breaker popped, but Finn wasn't moving anymore.  
  
Then the roof blew in.

**Cavalry Charge**

Finn was either dead or down for a slow count. Right this moment, I really didn't care which. The fire was spreading and occasionally another large boom from something pretty energetic, would echo through the building. There were people rappelling in through the brand spanking new skylight and it sounded like the fire fight was picking up again. Time to move.  
  
I headed for the nearest wall trying to stay in the shadows and oodles of smoke. Playing tag with Gates and Finn had worn me out and I wasn't sure I could take out a newbie vamp in my current condition. I had moved parallel to the burning lab tents when a familiar raspy voice came out of the shadows.  
  
"Damn Summers, you really know how to throw a party. Anybody ever tell you that?"  
  
"Sam!" I spun and saw him in his sneaky outfit grinning at me from the shadows. I couldn't help it, I hugged him.  
  
"Easy there champ! Some of us aren't supernatural warriors with augmented strength and stamina."  
  
"Sorry Sam. What's going on? When did you get here?"  
  
"I got here on the tail end of your throwdown with that tank outside. Nice work by the way. What's going on? Well I got your message and told my boss about a potential terrorist incident in Paris involving weird technology. That kind of terrorism threat is what Dutch's unit handles, so that's who Lambert contacted. Then the news started filling up with the hotel assault so I hopped on a bird and flew over ASAP. Like I said, you really do know how to throw a party. One of our satellites picked up a lot of encrypted traffic around this location, and one of the guys in System's Security spotted an unauthorized data feed for some of our photo-sats also directed here. Anyway, General Schaefer is over that-a-way," he pointed, "and probably should get a sit-rep from the agent on site..."  
  
"I have two..."  
  
"...Friends here. Yeah. You know some scary people Summers, anybody ever tell you that?"  
  
"Present company included?"  
  
"Touche. Anyway, they pulled out after I told them reinforcements were going to be entering loudly. You know that sniper of yours is almost as fast as you?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"You'd better go talk to Dutch before he gets cranky. General Officers don't like being kept waiting in my experience."  
  
"Got it, and thanks Sam."  
  
"Hey, this is my job too. Cleaning up messes that somebody with more brains than sense caused. See you Buffy," he faded back into the shadows.

  
I moved towards the loud accented voice barking orders until I saw the massive General in question.  
  
"Sir, Lieutenant Summers reporting!" I saluted.  
  
"Aht ease. Now Vhat the fuck is going on here?"  
  
"Margaret Walsh."  
  
"That idiot again? Vunderful...This time it's too big, too public, "He turned to one of his men, " Make sure efferything burns. Bodies, equipment, efferything. Ahnd make it fast, the French vill be here soon."  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
"So Summers, you just valked into this again like Arizonah?"  
  
"No sir, she was trying to grab me and a package she arranged to smuggle out."  
  
"Grahb you? Vhy?"  
  
"My uh...skills sir. As far as I can tell, she was trying to merge uh, Jarret Village technology, with...other stuff."  
  
"Vell, she von't haff any support from up high anymore. Let's go, you can tell me the story as vee valk," he turned and stepped through the Gates sized hole.  
  
Outside there was billowing smoke and the roar of helicopter engines. Teams were setting fire to Gates' body and the two Pulgara. The General lit a cigar and headed towards one of the Blackhawks, "So Summers, you received orders to transport a package?"  
  
"Yes sir. I was ordered to report to London..."

  
Two days later I was back in DC with orders to report to Fort Bragg on Temporary Duty, the General had activated me. His reasoning was that if I had called him for back-up, I must be already working for him. That way he could justify the assault team into a 'Friendly's' territory.  
  
I sighed. I was going back into active duty Army. Sometimes you just can't escape the big green machine.  
  
  
  
**a/n**  
  
What about the package contents?  
What happened to Walsh, Bourne, and Hanna?  
Will there be more Military Option?  
  
Of course there will be more...and maybe, just maybe those other questions will be answered........  
  
**GLOSSARY in Chronological Order**  
  
MP5 - Sub Machine Gun. Seen in Die Hard and just about every other action movie.  
  
Pro Mask - Protective Mask. Gas Mask.  
  
Krav Maga - Israeli Intelligence Service/Military developed martial art.   
  
CS - Tear Gas  
  
PAVE Low - Special Operations Helicopters. Chocked full of electronics and sensors.  
  
Beretta 92 - 9mm Semi-automatic pistol.  
  
Emerson Folder -Compact combat knife  
  
ISA Direct Action Team - CIA para-military combat unit. Really existed.  
  
Technology Transfer Specialist - Agent authorized to handle classified Defense Department Equipment from one location to another.  
  
Top Secret Codeword - Only personnel authorized/cleared to know about the project even get to know the codeword.  
  
Echelon - National Security Agency (NSA) created telephone/radio word filter and flagging system.  
  
AN-M8 - US Military issue white smoke grenade.  
  
Trioxane - Heat Tabs used for cooking field rations.  
  
M4 - US Military rifle.  
  
SOCOM - Special Operations COMmand. The organization in charge of SEALS, Special Forces,   
Rangers and a whole bunch of other US Military units.  
  
FAL - Belgian heavy infantry rifle.  
  
SAW - Squad Automatic Weapon. Light Machine Gun.  
  
Remedial PT - Additional Calisthetics for soldiers with physical fitness deficiencies.  
  
Temporary Duty - A theoretically short term assignment in the US military.

 


End file.
